


Psycho Pass: The Geisha and the Hound

by SoelleKhiss



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Anime, F/M, Fanfiction, Geisha, High School Crush, M/M, Psycho Pass - Freeform, Psycho-pass - Freeform, Romance, Shinkane - Freeform, akane - Freeform, kogami, transgender male
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoelleKhiss/pseuds/SoelleKhiss
Summary: Enforcer Kogami and Inspector Tsunemori lend their expertise to a Division 10 Inspector and soon find themselves in the mysterious realms of Shinto shrines, tea house ceremonies, and the mirror-perfect world of the geisha.





	Psycho Pass: The Geisha and the Hound

The divisions of the Ministry of Welfare’s Public Safety Bureau were as diverse as the roster of Inspectors and Enforcers charged with maintaining order under the watchful eye of the Sibyl System. It was not unusual for an MWPSB division to request an Enforcer from another division for assistance. Enforcers carried the heavy weight of the investigation and endured the darkness of crime so that the Inspectors did not have to bear those burdens. 

The job, on both sides of the leash, had its perils, and Inspectors and Enforcers were injured or killed in the line of duty, which left vacancies. For particularly difficult cases or those requiring specific skill sets, certain divisions could provide a wealth of experience while at the same time benefiting from a fresh perspective from an Inspector or an Enforcer outside of their area of expertise. Still, the danger was ever present and always real.

No one understood that better than Shinya Kogami. As an Inspector, he had lost an Enforcer to a gruesome murder that left the MWPSB in shock. The case left him with a crime coefficient beyond regulation value and a conscience beyond redemption. A demotion spared him life in an isolation cell and put him back on the frontlines with the Public Safety Bureau, but he was much closer to the action than ever before in his career. 

Being in harm’s way was second nature to him, as familiar and comfortable as the gray jacket he wore with its fleece collar turned up. He was a frequent visitor in the medical bay and for a brief time the physicians joked about keeping a bed open just for him. His latest injury was a minor one—a sprained wrist—sustained in a street brawl when Kagari and he had been jumped by a pack of juvenile delinquents. He was more apt to blame the injury on the sloppy execution of the punch than the strength of the jaw. 

More sparring practice was in order to prevent a recurrence. Having cleared the medical list, he was headed to the gym when the summons from another Division came across his wristcom. Akane Tsunemori, and not Ginoza, had signed off on the temporary transfer, so he was not inclined to question it. Kogami hoped the case would mean action in the field and not turn out to be one of her more altruistic pursuits. If he couldn’t spar with a combat drone, he would happily settle for the real thing.

When an Inspector was expecting a fight, they often called on him because there was little doubt in his obedience and no hesitation when the order to give chase and bite was issued. This ardent tenacity had earned him the nickname the Hellhound. But it was this same pugnacious persistence that made him difficult to handle in the field. 

_Impertinent_. _Insubordinate_. _Incorrigible_. These were the terms Ginoza had written on his most recent performance review. Any other Enforcer might have ended up in an isolation cell, if only as a precautionary measure. By law Kogami should have been taken out of the field and placed on desk duty, and he would have except for Inspector Akane Tsunemori’s undaunted belief in him.

That night in the park under the fireworks, Kogami had made a promise to her, one that he had every intention to keep or die trying. As a result of that promise, Division 1’s investigation success ratio was at the highest percentile in the PSB, and Akane was the lead Inspector for the second month in a row. She clearly saw something of value in him. Something Kogami could not see in himself. 

_A force of nature_ , Chief Kasei had referred to him. One day that assessment would send him to an isolation facility forever, but not now when he was proving too useful to the bureau and Kasei’s political agenda. Other divisions had taken note, to, and their Inspectors looked on, envying Tsunemori for what she alone possessed and what Ginoza despised. First, it was, Division 5, Inspector Ikuko, who needed help unveiling a corrupt Inspector. Then it was Division 3, who had been tasked with putting to rout a dangerous militia on the slopes of Mt. Fuji. 

_Another case, another collar_ , Kogami surmised. _So long as the job gets done._

The requests came monthly and were usually dismissed by Ginoza, except where Chief Kasei gave her blessing. There was enough work to stay busy within their own division, but the calls for assistance kept coming, becoming weekly requests. This required vetting from the highest office in the bureau before any approval was given. Kogami was soon spending more time out of Division 1 office than in it, and he was growing anxious being separated from Akane.

_Maybe it’s time to turn a bit rabid_ , he thought to himself. _Give them a reason to think twice before requesting me for their cases._

While the latest request for assistance from Chief Kasei came as no surprise to Kogami, it was received with resentment until he saw Akane’s signature. Only then did he notice what division had put in the call—Division 10. While widely respected as a think tank for the MWPSB, Division 10 Inspectors worked investigations from in-house laboratories, extensive research libraries, and computer terminals with restricted databases. More familiar with anthropology, linguistics, sociology, and other academic pursuits, over forensics, they were lab coats and bespectacled bookworms, who were more deposed toward academia than police work. 

Division 10 was rarely ever in the field unless the unusual nature of an investigation called for their unusual expertise. Kogami wondered what he was getting into because his usual antics were not especially well suited to academicians.

Taking the cigarettes from his pocket, he tapped one from the pack and put it in his mouth and quickly lit it. It was a brief ride on the elevator from the CID floor to the parking garage, but just long enough to enjoy his favorite vice. He took long, deep drags as the floor counter ticked away to the sublevel housing the MWPSB’s official vehicles and paddy wagons. There was no smoking permitted in this area, and the rule was staunchly enforced by the security drone posted there.

The Enforcer savored the rich, distinctive taste of the tobacco and leaned back against the elevator wall. He exhaled slowly and enjoyed the solitude, if only for a moment. He was missing the presence of his rightful handler and smiled, thinking of her and the night when fireworks took on a whole new meaning for him.

Kogami waited until the elevator doors slid open and stepped outside into the dimness. The security drone immediately reacted to his presence or rather to the lit cigarette in his mouth by bumping into him. _Impertinent_ , _insubordinate, and incorrigible,_ he thought. Pulling one last drag from the cigarette, Kogami tapped it out against the drone’s domed head. “It’s out. Satisfied?” He gave the drone a cursory, dismissive glance and walked out to the curb.

A strange woman was standing there alone in the dull, fluorescent light. It was unusual to find a civilian standing in the heart of the MWPSB’s parking hub. However, It was beyond extraordinary to find a geisha. Kogami eyed her suspiciously as he joined her at the curb. She was dressed impeccably in a formal kimono with long, flowing sleeves and a weighted train that hid the lower portion of her body even her ankles and feet. Made of refined silk that caught the limited lighting and reflected it back, the kimono was a soothing ocean blue color and adorned with cranes, their wings unfurled in flight, over a canvas of deeper blue. A yellow sash was tied about her waist and fastened with an elaborate bow in the small of her back. 

Swept back in the traditional maiden leaf hairstyles of the Endo Period, her hair was flawlessly tucked under and held at the crown of her head with elaborate kanzashi. The golden hairpins moved ever so subtly and tinkled quietly in the silence. She was out of place in the stark concrete environment of the garage among drones and vehicles.

Kogami did his best not to stare at her. While he had seen geisha before, he had never had the chance to be this close. It was as if she simply stepped through a fold in time into the monotony of modernity. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked a few paces away from her and stood at the curb waiting for pick up. 

Kogami’s intuition told him that she was staring at him, despite his courtesy. At odd intervals, she cast her eyes in his direction and then looked away. Never acknowledging her, he kept his eyes forward and focused on the shadows. If any one of the paddy wagon doors had been opened, he would have gone there to escape the awkwardness of the situation.

Ever so slowly, the geisha inched closer to him. She moved sideways along the curb until they were nearly touching. Uneasy with her proximity, Kogami took a step away to once more create space between them. After a brief moment, she again sidled up alongside him. The strange woman was so close that he could smell the perfume she wore. 

Casting his eyes to the ceiling overhead in despair, he dropped back toward the elevator and walked to the other side, once again creating some distance. But before long, casting her fleeting glances, the geisha moved with graceful measured steps toward him until they were almost touching elbows.

“Lady, no disrespect—” He took a cautious step off the curb to face her. “—but there’s plenty of space here for the both of us.”

The geisha laughed so softly that Kogami wondered if he had heard her. But her mirth grew into a demure, playful chuckle that annoyed him, except for its familiarity. Her face was painted pure white with the traditional face powder of her station. Cherry-red, her lips were meticulously outlined and filled in with lipstick. Less vibrant, the same hue was used as a blush, accentuating her cheeks and eyelids, even her brows. Hands hidden in her long, flowing sleeves, she bowed her head and averted her eyes.

“Mind telling me what’s so funny?”

“You, Mr. Kogami. It’s nice to see that you give that brash attitude to everyone you meet.”

Kogami gasped and took a startled step back. “Akane?”

Tilting her head and smiling proudly, Inspector Tsunemori extended her hands and arms to the side so that he could take in the view of her dressed in the traditional kimono. “What do you think?”

The Enforcer was at a loss for any words. Caught off guard, sarcasm was his only resort. “Do you have a Dominator hidden under all those layers? Because right now I’m thinking about strangling you.”

“Kogami!”

“What? I _am_ a latent criminal. Getting in my personal space like that? What were _you_ thinking?” Nostrils flared he settled for teasing her because he had no words to describe her astounding beauty. Akane was never one to wear much makeup. The black business suit she wore to work did little for the imagination, but to see her now in a formal kimono and all the accoutrements of a geisha took his breath away. Dumbfounded, he asked, “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Ginoza was afraid that you might embarrass yourself while on duty with Division 10, so he sent me to keep an eye on you. When I asked to go along with you, Division 10 loved the idea.” She slowly spun in a circle for him to look at her. “Dressing like a geisha was their idea.” Standing too close to the curb, she lost her balance and took a bad step, falling from the sidewalk.

Kogami caught her in his arms and held her. “I’m still thinking about strangling you.” 

“Oh, stop it. How often do I ever get a chance to pull one over on you, Mr. Kogami?” She lifted the hem of the heavy kimono and showed him the wooden sandals she was wearing. They were nearly three inches off the ground. “Not exactly used to these,” she said timidly. “Traditional okobo sandals. No wonder the geisha take such tiny steps.”

“Time may rush many things, Inspector Tsunemori,” said a strange male voice. “But time will never rush nor undo the balance of a willow tree, so must the graceful movements of a geisha be. _Unhurried_.”

The newcomer was a slight man, though tall, dressed in a black business suit that was the calling card of MWPSB Inspectors. His long black hair was swept back from his face and held in a meticulous bun near the top of his head. He was impeccably groomed and clean shaven as he had just come from a photo shoot for a men’s magazine. There was an obvious moment of recognition in his eyes as he approached them. “Enforcer Shinya Kogami,” he said, bowing deeply.

Kogami was immediately disarmed by so formal a greeting from a superior. Only Akane ever bowed so respectfully to him and only when she felt that she had done something to offend him. “Inspector Takizawa?”

“Inspector Tsunemori?” Takizawa bowed a second time, though not as deeply or formally. There was an amused smile on his face as he carefully eyed Akane. “I must say, Inspector, you are perfection. I take it my assistant‘s debriefing was of assistance to you?”

“She was very knowledgeable, Inspector Takizawa,” Akane said. “But wouldn’t it have been easier to wear a holo-costume?”

“This is not cosplay, Inspector Tsunemori. The world of the geisha is very real and must, therefore, be very authentic.”

“Are you sure having me play a geisha is a good idea?”

“It may seem unnecessary, but I assure you the presence of a geisha or a maiko, a geisha’s apprentice, will be quite helpful.”

“So I am a maiko then, an apprentice geisha?”

“Yes. Did you watch the holovids that I recommended?”

“Three times.” Akane straightened the shoulders of her kimono and smoothed the folds that had wrinkled from her near fall. “I feel better playing the role of an apprentice.”

“Reference what was learned and follow my lead. You will fit the role perfectly.”

Akane struggled to adjust the obi around her waist. “I’m not certain the sash is properly done. Your assistant and I just couldn’t quite get it tied tightly enough.”

“Ah,” Takizawa said. He hurried to her side and gently turned her around. Reaching for the sash, he gave it a pull to undo it. “Hold steady now. Mr. Kogami, if you’ll assist me please.” As Kogami held on to the sash, Takizawa gave the fabric a firm tug and allowed Kogami to tie it with his direction. “Generally, a male dresser helps the geisha dress, an okotoshi-san.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to tie the sash in the front?” Careful to keep her steps small and in balance, Akane turned around to face them.

Takizawa’s face went blank. His smile faded and his cheeks went crimson in a moment of embarrassment. “Only if you are promoting yourself as a woman who _sells_ more than her charm, Inspector. I’m certain that you don’t want to do that.”

Understanding the implications of her naive request, Akane’s eyes widened in horror and then she chuckled into her hands. “Mustn’t give the wrong impression.” She bowed politely. “I’ve always wanted to dress like a geisha. They’re so incredibly graceful and beautiful. Thank you for this opportunity.”

“It is an honor to fulfill your wish.” Takizawa returned her bow with a respectful nod. “Thank you both for agreeing to accompany me today and lending me your assistance for this investigation.”

“It’s not as if I had a choice,” Kogami said.

“There is always a choice, Mr. Kogami. It’s simply a matter of shifting your perspective.” Takizawa grinned pleasantly, showing two even rows of perfectly white teeth. Reaching into his lapel pocket, he produced a bamboo fan and held it out to Akane. “No, geisha’s ensemble is complete without this. An elegant tool from an elegant time before technology marred our social intellect and made strangers of us all.”

Akane swung the fan open and marveled at the decorative scene of cranes playing in a lake as two geisha watched on in delight. “This is beautiful, Inspector Takizawa. I’m not certain what you have in mind for this case. I just hope that I‘m up to the task.”

“ _That which needs to be done is carried out by those capable. Such is the grace bestowed upon mankind by Sibyl_. Be humble. Be beautiful. Be mindful. Be poised like the willow tree, and you’ll be fine, Inspector Tsunemori.” He extended his hand toward a waiting car across the garage. “Shall we? We are expected. Punctuality is a must.”

There was something familiar in Takizawa’s manner that put Kogami at ease. He was not possessed of the superior airs like Ginoza, and while he was overly polite, he lacked the naive idealism of Akane. His presence had a worldly nature about it, eccentrically diverse and yet restrained. Kogami chalked it up to the peculiar mannerisms of a scholar. 

“Do you know much about the Geisha, Inspector?”

“Very little, I’m afraid,” Akane replied. She allowed Takizawa to help her adjust the kimono as she sat down in the passenger seat before he closed the door.

“You, Mr. Kogami?” Takizawa shut the driver’s side door and started the engine.

Sitting in the backseat, Kogami leaned into his hand, his elbow propped against the door and window. “Some, I guess. There was a little girl at my school. She was being trained as a geisha by her mother. Parents ran a tea house and restaurant. So, I know enough to recognize that it’s an art form, where women specialize in entertainment: singing, dancing, gaming, and conversation.”

Staring in the rear view mirror, Takizawa’s eyes widened in surprise and then approval. “That’s good, Mr. Kogami. That’s very, very good. Too often people’s first thoughts turn to prostitution. The uninitiated mostly.” He calmly spun the steering wheel to make the turn out of the Ministry of Welfare’s parking hub. “We must wholly respect these women and their world if we have any hope of solving this case.”

Kogami struggled to discern the odd tone of his voice. There was something that Takizawa was not saying. “Look, I don’t know what Inspector Ginoza might have told you about me, but I—“

“I will not impugn myself by saying that Inspector Ginoza had no hard words to say of you, but you needn’t worry. Your reputation for getting the job done precedes you. Better than you know.”

“That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

“It should be.”

“Kogami,” Akane scolded, “just cooperate with Inspector Takizawa.”

“It’s alright. We are about to enter the world of the geisha, where the rules of the modern world do not apply. Nor do the Dominators.” Takizawa glanced in the rearview mirror. “The role of a brooding Enforcer may prove to be as essential as the lovely maiko for this investigation.”

“The case files were restricted to Division 10 personnel only,” Akane said. “Is there anything you can tell us?” 

“There have been three deaths at a local _okiya_ , a geisha school. The unfortunate young women are presumed to be in the prime of life and in good health. However, the autopsies showed unusually high levels of cyanide in their blood.”

“Cyanide poisoning?” Akane said. “How is that possible? The chemicals needed to manufacture such a poison are not readily available for public purchase.”

“And a cymatic scanner would certainly have flagged anyone planning such a heinous crime,” Kogami added.

“When dealing with such revered, archaic traditions, even the Sybil System knows its boundaries. The geisha school is part of a prominent tea house, which sits on the grounds of a Shintō shrine. It is a protected area. There are no cymatic scanners any where on the grounds.” 

“Because the school is located on sacred land, the MWPSB has no jurisdiction there,” Akane mused aloud. “No wonder Division 10 was put on the case. If a crime has been committed, expertise with the culture of the geisha will be paramount in solving it.”

“A restricted abolitionist area,” Kogami said, “as supported by the Citizen’s Chart. I didn’t think such places actually existed.”

“They do, Mr. Kogami. When dealing with such very old traditions, it is necessary to work in a traditional fashion. We have been invited—”

“Invited!” Kogami growled. “People may have been murdered. This isn’t a tea party.”

“As I was saying, Mr. Kogami, the MWPSB has been invited to investigate the matter.” Never raising his voice or changing his tone, Takizawa stared at him in the rearview mirror. “We will be attending a formal tea ceremony at the school.”

“Do we really have the time—“

“ _Unhurried_ is the theme of the geisha, Mr. Kogami. We will make time. We will observe. And we will settle the matter without disrespecting or disrupting the traditions of the shrine or the school. Is that clear?”

This was the defining moment when defiance could be elevated to an art form, visceral and punching. Had this man—Takizawa—been Ginoza, an argument was forthcoming. Kogami could feel the hot flush rising up the front of his neck. A murderer might be walking, unchecked, on the grounds of a shrine or in the corridors of a geisha school, and Takizawa wanted to play tea party. 

Before Kogami could lend a voice to his insubordination, he glanced in the sideview mirror and saw Akane’s face. Her stern glare was comical, a scowl hidden in white face paint and cherry-red lipstick. She looked like a porcelain doll, beautiful, delicate, untouchable, and certainly beyond reproach.

Kogami relented with a sigh, cradling his face against his hand. “Whatever you say, Inspector.”

****

Takizawa drove for nearly an hour on the main highway and then took an interchange to the outskirts of the city. There was the one exit, which led to the base of a mountain shrine in the foothills of a popular park. Though the cityscape of modern skyscrapers and raised highways was prominent on the horizon, it was possible to turn away and forget the troubles of urban life and urban sprawl by gazing up at the serenity of the rugged hills and uneven rocky slopes.

“See something interesting?” Kogami asked. While Takizawa was speaking to a representative from the geisha school, he had followed Akane to the base of a stone stairway leading up to the shrine.

“When Inspector Takizawa said that there were 1,000 steps, I thought he was being metaphorical.” She stared down at her feet. “Wearing a kimono with a weighted hem is one thing, but these wooden sandals?” She looked up at him with dread. “If I’m going to break my neck, I’d rather do it chasing a criminal, not tripping over my own feet.”

Kogami chuckled, hiding his reaction by stretching his arms over his head. Careful of the elaborate bow at the small of her back, he gently picked her up in his arms. “No need to break your neck, Inspector, not when you have an Enforcer to do it for you.” He hesitated on the first step. “Wait a minute, that didn’t exactly come out right.”

“No, it didn’t, but I know what you mean.” Akane glanced over his shoulder to her fellow Inspector, who was still negotiating their entrance. “Shouldn’t we wait for Mr. Takizawa?”

“Something tells me he’ll catch up. Nothing wrong with a head start.”

At the top of the mountain, sweat glistening on his brow, Kogami took the final few steps to the gate of the shrine and set her down. Though winded from the long climb and from carrying Akane all the way, he controlled his breathing in an attempt to appear unfazed by his exertions. He was fit and athletic, but the near vertical slope of the steps were a challenge, even he had to admit.

“Take a moment to catch your breath, Mr. Kogami. That was certainly an appropriate gesture for the god of war,” Takizawa said. He had respectfully trailed them on the stairway, while he observed Kogami the entire climb. “The warrior priests here seem to appreciate your efforts as do the other shrine goers. Let us pray that Futsunushi, the _Kami_ of this shrine is watching, too.” Straightening Akane’s kimono, he nodded inconspicuously to the crowd gathered just inside the gate. “The proper thing to do before entering the gate is to bow and then to walk in on the righthand side.”

Kogami bowed his head slightly as the Inspectors bowed deeply at the shrine entrance. Following Takizawa’s lead, he walked through the gate on the right side and then removed his shoes, unprompted, placing them in a wooden cupboard provided for shrine visitors. Unsettled by the attention, he kept an eye on the warrior priests who remained, even after the crowd had dispersed.

“Ever watchful,” Takizawa remarked, smiling at Kogami’s vigilance. 

“As a good hound should be,” Kogami replied.

“We are quite safe here. This is the shrine of Futsunushi no Mikoto, the god of archery and war.”

“Is that why the priests are carrying swords?” 

“In accordance with the deity, it is expected. Each of them is an accomplished swordsman. Otherwise, they would not be permitted to carry the weapon or even appear in public without it.”

Akane clasped her hands together in excitement. “Inspector Takizawa, this is like being on an educational field trip; only I’m learning more than I ever imagined.”

“Come, I’ve arranged for our privacy,” Takizawa said. “The gentleman I was speaking to earlier was Mr. Akagi, the teamaster’s son. We can wait in the garden until our appointed time. The shrine is about to close to the public for the evening, but we will be permitted to stay.”

“Privacy?” Kogami asked.

Takizawa grinned, his expression fixed and without flaw, as if he were posing for a picture. “A geisha in public, even a maiko, is quite the spectacle.” His smile broadened as their threesome was approached by a small group of school children. Ahead of them, a young boy of 5 or 6 years walked toward Akane, holding out a sprig of plum blossom to her. 

Unsure of what to do or how to respond, Akane looked at Takizawa for direction.

“Superb, my dear. A maiko should always look to her _oniisan_ for guidance.”

“What shall I do.”

“Do not smile. Slightly close your eyes and tilt your head,” he whispered. “Sweetly regard the child and his gift with mild surprise. Good. Now bow from the waist, maintaining eye contact with him and take the flower delicately from his hand, as if you were plucking it from the branch yourself. Make no other contact.” As Akane performed the requested gestures, he continued, “Now standing tall, bring the flower to your lips, head still tilted, and bow your head in gracious thanks. Well done.” 

There was a round of applause from the nearby spectators, who bowed in appreciation of the impromptu performance. Grinning from the attention, the child was led away by his peers and a teacher as their group gathered to leave for the day. 

“I’m learning a whole new respect for the geisha.” Akane tucked the plum blossom behind her ear.

“The art of the geisha requires a mental and physical toughness not unlike the samurai,” Takizawa said. “You performed admirably. Every motion a Geisha makes is a graceful dance. It must be so, because she is always on stage when in the public eye.”

“Next time you can walk the stairs on your own,” Kogami said. “To test that gracefulness.”

Akane took her fan and swatted him across the arm. 

“Delicately, my child,” Takizawa cautioned, “this particular fan is well over 100 years old. It’s longevity is a testament to its craftsmanship and care.” He took the fan from her and inspected it for any damage.

“I am so sorry, Inspector Takizawa.” She glared at Kogami with a half scowl.

“A fan can be used to discipline wayward servants,” he explained, casting his eyes at Kogami, “but most are unaware of the subtleties of the tool.” He checked the relic by spreading the leaves then refolding it by the rivet three times. “History tells of renowned generals carrying such fans and using them to send signals to their troops. I hope to successfully do the same with you both today during the tea ceremony. But the greatest use of the fan is its exquisite secret language, the language of courtship.”

Takizawa struck a pose of coyness, his eyes meeting Kogami’s and narrowing with flirtatious allure. “Touching the tip of your finger to the closed fan means: _I wish to speak with you_. But,” he deftly twirled the fan in his left hand, “this gesture means: _we are being watched_.” Takizawa brushed his shoulder against Kogami seductively and caressed the Enforcer’s chin with the fan. 

Unsure what to think of the Inspector’s daring behavior, Kogami gasped and raised his head to avoid the contact. Disarmed by the sudden and unexpected intimacy, he grit his teeth, and glared at Takizawa, disliking Takizawa’s attempt to dominate him through his actions.

Takizawa met Kogami’s steely gaze with a subtle smile and tilted his head to the side, much in the fashion that he had instructed Akane. His movements were graceful and calculating. “Opening and closing the fan several times with agitation simply means: _you are being cruel_.” He slapped the fan closed to demonstrate and narrowed his eyes in feigned dismay at the startled Enforcer’s aggressive stance. “But _all is forgiven_ by drawing the fan slowly across the eyes to beg forgiveness.” He performed each action as he explained the meaning.

“How do you tell some you might have feelings for them?” Akane asked. While Takizawa’s back was to her, she grinned and winked at Kogami over his shoulder.

“I love you?” Ignoring the Enforcer’s balled fists, Takizawa smiled playfully at Kogami’s awkward response to the attention. “The fan held over the heart tells the astute lover that they have _won your heart_.” He pirouetted, spinning gracefully away from Kogami to Akane and spread the fan wide in front of her. Putting it in her hands, he gracefully maneuvered it up to cover her wide eyes. Once her eyes were hidden, he pulled the fan down slowly to uncover them. “The eyes, Akane, say it all. Hiding them and then slowly exposing them reveals your heart, meaning _I love you_.” He watched Akane’s face and followed her eyes to Kogami. “Intriguing.” 

Takizawa again took the fan from her and closed it abruptly. Touching the tip to his nose, he cut his eyes at Akane and then to Kogami. “And this indicates _intense jealousy_.” His eyes softened, the expression returning to one of amusement. Noticing a priest standing at the garden entrance, he bowed his head to the man and returned the fan to Akane. “The shrine has been cleared,” he said. “It is time for the purification ritual.”

Akane awkwardly took the fan and stared down at it. “Why am I feeling so blatantly inadequate?” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” Kogami teased. A smile curled in the corners of his mouth. “Don’t need a fan to know how you feel about me.”

Takizawa led them to a long stone basin in the shrine courtyard. “Grasp the bamboo dipper in your right hand and pour the water over your left. Then grasping the dipper in your left hand, do the same for your right hand.”

Anxious to perform the ritual, Akane quickly stepped up to the basin and followed Takizawa’s instructions. 

Still unsettled by Takizawa’s behavior, Kogami watched from a distance and with limited interest. Three women may have been murdered on the grounds of this shrine. He was in no mood for rituals while their murderer might still be walking free, possibly observing them. 

Dressed in black robes, one of the priests approached him and drew the sheathed wakizashi from his sash and pointed to the basin. When Kogami did not move swiftly enough, he took a defensive stance and struck him in the lower leg with the intent of bringing the Enforcer to a knee. When Kogami merely flinched in surprise and did not drop, there was instant recognition in the priest’s eyes. Before Kogami could react, the priest strengthened his grip with two hands and deftly struck him again with the sheathed sword.

Kogami’s leg went numb from a direct hit on a pressure point. He dropped to one knee as the priest spun on his heel and brought the sword up under his chin with a firm tap. Although the blade was in its sheath, the message was clear. Kogami swallowed deliberately and remained still. 

Restraining Akane gently by the shoulder, Takizawa did not interfere. “The warrior priests of this particular shrine do not speak, Mr. Kogami. But they certainly know how to get their point across, wouldn’t you agree?” He turned back to the basin to complete the purification ritual. “You seem to have attracted their attention yet again.”

Kogami was forced to his feet as the priest raised the sword beneath his chin. His choice was to stand or be strangled. With a stern expression of disgust, the priest pointed to the water basin. Chided by the shrine guardian, Kogami walked over to the basin and performed the ritual as Takizawa instructed.

“A bit of respect goes a long way, Mr. Kogami. Play your cards right and the god of war may grant you a boon.” 

Aloofness proved to be a detriment under the watchful eyes of the shrine priests. Kogami stayed clear of them and followed Takizawa, who led them through the necessary steps of the pilgrim. After the ritual of water came the ritual of fire. Here the eccentric Takizawa stood beside a small fire pit and redirected the smoke up and over his head seven times.

There was something undeniably appealing about Takizawa. Kogami struggled, but could not deny it. He was a genuine intellectual, unlike Ginoza, with a thirst for knowledge in philosophy and history. The Inspector was also a gifted and powerful teacher who with mere smiles, simple instruction, and warm praise turned Akane from a cop into a geisha, if only for the day. 

There was something familiar about him that Kogami could not shake. Some nuance in his gentle manner that tugged at a stubborn memory that refused to come to the light.

Clearing his head of the recalcitrant thought, Kogami wrote a prayer on a small wooden talisman. Visitors were entreated to write their prayer in the form of a poem, but Kogami was not much for words. He wrote the kanji for Akane’s name on the wooden slip and wondered if the Shintō Kami was listening. Futsunushi —the god of war. Though Kogami was as much a harbinger of the battle as well as a victim, he had made good on many offerings to the god as an Enforcer. Surely there was some way he could find favor with the deity. 

Walking over to the fire pit, he stared at the massive mosaic on the back wall of the shrine. Nearly 25-feet tall, Kogami was humbled by the size of the relief. It was a depiction of Futsunushi riding a warhorse, a big chestnut that wore the matching armor of his master. His swords were sheathed at his waist, and a bow was tied to the saddle. For being the god of war, Futsunushi’s was quite serene and sedate. 

Sensing eyes upon him, Kogami followed the ritual protocols by ringing the bell once and bowing respectfully twice. He tossed the talisman into the flames in the center of the shrine and watched intently as flames licked at it, burning the wooden slip and sending his prayer to the _Kami_. He bowed once more and placed three coins in the offering box. Looking into the face of the god of swords, he thought, _Hope you’re listening._

Akane joined him and tucked her arm under his as they walked back to the courtyard. “So, what did you pray for?” she asked in a cheerful voice.

Hands in his pockets, Kogami pressed her arm against him and walked slowly to accommodate her small steps. “Isn’t it against the rules to tell?” He felt the flush across his cheeks, knowing that his prayer was and always would be for her to be his.

“I guess that’s true,” Akane said. “This has been such a great experience. I never truly understood the shrines or how they worked until now.”

“I’ll admit, it’s been different, but I’m ready to get to the business of the investigation. A crime may have occurred here. While we’re playing with water and fire, the murderer could be miles away.” Kogami purposely slowed his strides as they rejoined Takizawa.

“Kogami?” Akane whispered.

The concern in her voice was shared. In front of them, thirty priests dressed in traditional black robes stood in a semi-circle. As Kogami and Akane walked into the center, they were flanked, and the circle was made complete. They were surrounded. Arms crossed over his chest, Takizawa stood watching the priests with a rather stern expression on his face.

“Something wrong?” Kogami asked.

“When the priests won’t speak, it’s difficult to ascertain what they want or what they intend,” Takizawa said. “But I believe it has to do with you, Mr. Kogami.”

“Me?” Kogami pulled his arm away from Akane and brought her between them for protection. “What do they want? A sacrifice?”

“Perhaps not a sacrifice, but definitely a flogging. Please tell me you followed the rituals as I instructed?”

“With no deviation.”

Hoary headed, a priest broke ranks from the circle. From the deference shown to him by all the others, Kogami guessed this was the shrine guardian. An older man, he moved with fluidity and strength. Two subordinates accompanied him. One, to his right, carried a sheathed wakizashi in the folded sleeves of his robes. The other, on his left, carried a small melon in his hands. 

Assuming a ready stance, the shrine elder nodded to the man on his left side. This was answered by the young man, who threw the melon high into the air in front of the old man. Drawing his blade with preternatural speed, the priest leaped into the air and skewered the falling melon with the tip of his blade. The draw was so fast that Kogami only heard the sound of the metal blade exiting the sheath. 

In a second motion, the priest spun the sword and sliced the melon in half. It fell to the ground with a dull thud, where the younger priest quickly retrieved it and returned to the circle. The shrine elder sharply snapped his wrist and shook the blade free of any residual juices before slowly returning it to its scabbard. Extending his right hand, he requested, Kogami assume the position before him.

“Not sure what I did now,” Kogami said. “But I think this might leave a mark.” He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to Akane. 

“I must confess that I am terribly intrigued,” Takizawa replied. “No one in Division 10 will ever believe this. I wonder if I should record it.” He stared at Kogami with a fleeting moment of uncertainty on his face. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“I mind!” Akane cried, grabbing Kogami by the sleeve. “Is this because you carried me up the stairs?”

“Yes,” Takaizawa said, “well, in part. The warrior priests, while they are not samurai in the traditional sense, live by a variation of the same Bushido code. The first tenet is integrity, which you showed when the priest corrected your behavior at the water basin. You were humble and submitted to your betters without any defiance.”

“Gino would never believe that,” Kogami said. “Can you put that in a report?”

“He won’t have to!” Akane wrapped her body around his arm. “I will not let you do this, Kogami!”

“Kindness is the second tenet,” Takizawa said. “While many think the samurai were fierce warriors, and they were, the samurai were also men and women of great passion as well as compassion.”

“Carrying Inspector Tsunemori up the stairs?”

“Yes, but for the record, Mr. Kogami, this may not be a matter of what you’ve done, but rather what you _will_ do.” Takizawa prepared the recording device in his wristcom.

“What does that mean?” Akane demanded.

“Futsunushi’s warrior priests are said to have the gift of precognition—foresight. They must see something in you or something that you were meant to do.”

“Now _I’m_ intrigued,” Kogami whispered. “What’s the third tenet?”

“Courage.”

Kogami gently ran his fingers over Akane’s hands and pulled free. “How’s your first aid these days, Inspector. I’ve got a feeling if I don’t pass the test here, I’m going to need it.”

“Kogami!”

Kogami stood in a position opposite the head priest and bowed in respect. Offering the wakizashi to the Enforcer, the subordinate carrying the sword approached him and bowed. Crafted from wood and polished with sapphire varnish, the scabbard was carved with ornate images of samurai in battle. The hilt of the sword spoke to the exquisite craftsmanship of the blade hidden within the sheath. 

Kogami would have to trust in that craftsmanship. His life depended on it. Pushing his thumb against the hilt of the blade, he felt it easily slip from the scabbard and then fall back down inside with a metallic click. He returned the subordinate priest’s bow and then assumed a relaxed, neutral stance in front of the shrine priest. Mouth gone dry, he took a deep breath and exhaled with deliberate effort.

Without warning, the old man lunged at him. He drew his blade from the scabbard and bore down on the Enforcer with a savage frontal strike. The man’s speed was otherworldly and took Kogami off guard. 

Having mistakenly anticipated an overhead strike, Kogami drew the sword from its scabbard, discarding it on the ground and dropped to one knee. He tightened his grip on the hilt to receive the savage blow and deflect it, but struggled to drive the cutting sword upward with his arms and legs. His sprained wrist popped under the burden, and the fingers in that hand went numb. But Kogami held his breath, having exhaled all the air from his lungs, and became a pillar of stone.

“Kogami!” Akane screamed. She tried to run to him, but Takizawa held her in place.

The old priest did not let up. The force of the blow had knocked Kogami to the ground, but he was still exerting pressure on the blade. The advantage of leverage was his for as long as he could hold it.

Kogami grit his teeth and inhaled, drawing strength from the breath. He felt a slight trembling in his forearms, but he held still until the priest released him.

“Kogami!”

“Ssh! Inspector, please,” Takizawa whispered. “This is the part in the epic where the mentor imparts some important wisdom to the hero. Don’t ruin it.” He kept recording the scene as it unfolded.

The head priest waited until a staggered Kogami rose to his feet. With a subtle smile that lingered for only a moment, he sheathed his sword and placed the scabbard in his sash. His subordinate immediately came forward, bowed to Kogami, and extended his arms to receive the blade. Kogami sheathed the sword and politely, with both hands, placed it on the priest’s sleeves. The priest quickly took three steps backwards, bowed to him again, and presented the sword to his superior, bowed, and returned to the circle of his brothers.

The shrine guardian held the sheathed wakizashi in one hand and wiped the carved wooden scabbard with his sleeve. Then grasping it without using his bare hands, he wiped the other side, rolling down his sleeve to accomplish the deed. To Kogami’s surprise, he held the sword out to him to take. As Akane had done earlier in the day, he glanced at Takizawa for direction.

“It would be a terrible dishonor to this elder if you did not accept his gift,” Takizawa said.

Reluctantly, Kogami took the blade and bowed deeply to express his gratitude.

Spilling a thin mane of white hair across his shoulders, the priest loosened a leather cord and pulled it free. He tied the cord over the hilt of the wakizashi and its scabbard, effectively joining the two. With a nod of approval, he walked by the Enforcer and returned to the main shrine building. The other priests fell in line behind him. One by one, they paraded passed Kogami, bowing respectfully before moving on to the building until the circle was no more. The last priest, the one who had given him the sword bowed the longest and the deepest.

“Now, that was unexpected,” Takizawa said. He turned to Akane with restrained astonishment. “Is it always this exciting with Mr. Kogami around?”

Relief evident in her face, Akane laughed nervously. “Always and then some.”

“The Shintō priests of this temple are renowned sword makers, Mr. Kogami,” Takizawa said. “That blade is probably worth a small fortune.”

“What’s the cord mean?”

“It’s peacebound,” came the reply. “The blade is never meant to be drawn, except in times of great danger and then only as a last resort.”

“Seems a bit extreme.”

“Drawing the sword otherwise would be a sign of weakness. Not drawing the blade is a sign of wisdom and strength. A good hound knows the proper time to show its teeth.” 

“Then why do you look so troubled, Inspector Takizawa?” Akane asked.

“The Futsunushi priests are not only world renowned for their forging skills but their visions.” He hesitated, a perplexed expression crossing his face. “What have they seen that would prompt them to give a sword to an Enforcer?” He paused in contemplation, but then shook his head incredulously. “Whatever their reason, I suggest we proceed with caution. This way, our appointed time is nearly here.”

Her face drawn with worry, even beneath the white makeup of the geisha, Akane took Kogami’s arm. “Are you hurt?”

“I won’t lie,” he replied. “I’m going to feel that in the morning. But no,” he said, smiling for her, “I’m not hurt.”

Akane leaned against him and lowered her voice. “Working with Division 10 is far more exciting than I ever expected it to be.”

“Something tells me, it’s about to get a lot more exciting.” He glanced at the sword in his hand. “Hope we survive it.”

****

It was late spring and the plum blossoms, though delayed by an extended cold spell, were finally sprouting. The tea house garden was filled with the overwhelming fragrant scent of the buds. A small orchard of plum trees lined the walkways of a private alcove that served as a vestibule between the shrine and the geisha house. Sand and rock gardens were interspersed among the impeccably manicured landscape that included a wooden bridge that spanned the shores of a creek. Together, the organic and inorganic creations created a serene place that was a perfect sanctuary to get lost in thought and meditation.

“Have either of you ever been to a formal tea ceremony?” Takizawa asked. Hands clasped behind his back, he marveled at the plum blossoms. Eyes closed, he drank in the tranquility of the natural sounds around him and the aromas of Spring’s arrival.

“I’ve never had the opportunity,” Akane replied. She sat down on a wooden bench beside Kogami. “I understand there is a lot of pageantry that goes along with the tradition.”

Despite the potent scent of the plum blossoms, Kogami could smell Akane’s perfume above the garden fragrance. While there was space between them, his outstretched arm, which rested on the back of the bench, was merely inches from her bare neck. If she sat back, it would be into his embrace. The distraction was more than enough to make him forget where he was and his purpose for being there.

“Mr. Kogami?”

The Enforcer forced himself to focus. “Enough to know there’s not much conversation. I’m curious as to how you plan to conduct a criminal investigation if you can’t question potential suspects or witnesses?”

Takizawa smiled. “Ever on the scent. Does he ever relent?”

Akane tapped Kogami’s thigh. “Never.” 

Kogami snorted through flared nostrils. He was well aware that the only distraction in the garden was sitting within arm’s reach.

“Let me worry about conducting the investigation. It is imperative that you concentrate on my every action and follow my lead. Even the smallest mistake here could jeopardize what little access we have and ruin our chances of getting to the bottom of what may have happened here.”

A bell chimed from around the corner of the tea house. The sharp tone disrupted the serenity of the garden, even the soothing sounds of splashing water from a nearby pool. “That’s our cue,” Takizawa said with a grin. He led them to a small opening that was their doorway into the tearoom. The Inspector chuckled at Kogami’s reaction. “This small door is known simply as the _nijiriguchi_. Daimyo or peasant, all must bow and submit to humility. All are equal under the roof of the tea house. Mr. Kogami, you will come in after me, and Inspector Tsunemori, you will come after him.” He removed a bamboo fan from his breastpocket and tapped it against his thigh. “Watch for my signals.”

“Inspector Takizawa, you have a fan, too, like a geisha?”

“My dear, Inspector, male geisha predate the _onna geisha_ , the women, by a century.” He winked at her and bowed his head. “Remember the willow tree.” Takizawa ducked beneath the low eave and crawled inside on his hands and knees.

Kogami took a deep breath and stared into the dim interior of the tea house and its tatami mats beyond and hesitated. 

“Well,” Akane whispered, “what are you waiting for? Nothing’s going to bite you.”

“You sure about that?”

“If there are monsters in there, you have this.” She tapped the hilt of the wakizashi with her fan and gave him a push. “Let’s not keep the Inspector waiting. Punctuality, remember?”

Ducking his head, Kogami reluctantly bent down low on all fours and crawled into the tearoom. The dimensions were barely 16 by 16 feet and gave him an instant sense of claustrophobia. He pulled the wakizashi along beside him and took a place on the tatami mat beside Takizawa, who tapped quietly on the floor as an indication of placement. 

Despite her smaller size, Akane struggled to maneuver through the _nijiriguchi_. Struggling with the many layers of the heavy kimono, she managed to maneuver herself into a kneeling position on the mat beside him. 

Eyes on the Division 10 Inspector’s fan, Kogami understood the silent directive to bow in the direction of a scroll hanging on the opposite wall. The scroll read, _Sharpen your sword as the hound whets his teeth_. Unable to see Takizawa, Akane followed Kogami’s lead and bowed to the scroll and then to a small sprig of plum blossom poised on a shelf beside it. 

“Inspector Tsunemori, if you would please close the door,” Takizawa whispered. “You needn’t be gentle about it. This is how we summon our host.”

Akane leaned over and shut the crawl space door with an audible snap. On cue, a geisha in a purple kimono with a pink obi appeared from behind a shoji screen in the back corner of the room. The screen covered a doorway that led to a corridor and an adjoining room. From the delicious smells coming from that corner, Kogami guessed it was a kitchen. 

The geisha knelt down in front of them in _seiza_ position near a small hearth along the back wall. She bowed respectfully to each guest and then a final time to all three of them. “I am your host for the evening. My name is Yumi, and I welcome you to the Futsunushi Tea-House and Geisha School.” 

Kogami was only vaguely familiar with the tea ceremony. Much to his chagrin, his mother had insisted on such traditions. To spare her from even the slightest hint of disrespect, he had participated, though begrudgingly. He recalled the implements of the ceremony: the tea caddy, the various bowls, the whisk, and the bamboo scoop. A bamboo ladle was arranged on a purple cloth of silk. Each utensil was presented to them on a large mat for inspection as the guests.

Yumi set to work cleaning the utensils for the ceremony. His face stony with cold observation, Takizawa watched her begin the formal task. Throughout the morning, the Inspector’s mood had not deviated from the empathetic, light-hearted scholar Kogami had met in the garage. His playful antics with the fan revealed a whimsical depth of character. Neither facet could have prepared Kogami for the stern, taciturn mood that settled over the man in that moment. His disapproval mounting as the geisha continued to clean the utensils, Takizawa watched Yumi with the tenacity of a tyrant overseer.

Without warning, moving with the swiftness of a cobra, Takizawa struck the geisha’s hand with the bamboo fan. “There is a proper order to all things, as there is an order to all seasons. I would expect a proper geisha to know this.” 

The geisha reacted wordlessly, soundlessly, dropping the bamboo tea scoop to the mat in shock. Her awe gave way to indignation. Eyes narrowed, she glared at Takizawa before she remembered her place, and her expression softened. Pressing her forehead against the tatami mat, she bowed apologetically and retrieved the scoop. She began again, this time in a prescribed order, cleaning the utensils. 

Seeming more pleased with her performance, Takizawa sat back and watched intently. His demeanor was unchanged as he looked for any excuse to reprimand her.

From the back of the room, a dish was laid behind the geisha. She turned deftly toward the door, her eyes on Takizawa, and brought the plate of dango around to be served to her guests. Meticulously, Yumi laid out the sweets on separate plates and place them on a small tray that she presented to Takizawa with a bow. 

Takizawa glanced at the black lacquer tray in disgust. “Is this consideration? Is this the gift of respect between a host and her guests? I would find better fare at a charnel house!”

Immediately putting her forehead to the tatami mat, Yumi bowed. With tears brimming in her eyes, the emotional geisha quickly got to her feet, retrieved the tray of sweets, and hurried behind the shoji screen.

The Inspector’s tone was biting and malevolent, cruel enough that Kogami was poised to chase after the poor girl to offer apologies. Takizawa stopped him by slapping the fan soundly across the Enforcer’s chest. “Mind your place, Mr. Kogami. Read the scroll, and heed its meaning.”

“Was that really necessary?”

“The only way to purify gold, Mr. Kogami, is to put it in the fire and burn out the impurities.”

Moments later, Yumi returned with a new tray of sweets that were fresh from the oven. She resumed a kneeling position and bowed down to Takizawa. “Shall I continue?”

“If you are capable, yes,” he replied harshly.

This time, with proper garnishments, the young geisha offered the black lacquer tray with three dango properly arranged for presentation.

Takizawa regarded the sweets with obvious contempt. “Better. But my mood remains as dismal as the service rendered.” He took the tray and sampled one of the sweets and then bowed respectfully to the geisha before presenting the sweets tray to Kogami. Tapping the floor with his fan, he signaled his expectations to the Enforcer.

Kogami sampled the sweet confection and bowed to the geisha and then Takizawa. Looking frightened and uncertain, Akane imitated his actions based on Takizawa’s lead. Between them, they shared a look of distress, but there was nothing to do except follow the Division 10 Inspector’s lead.

Yumi quietly prepared the tea bowl, cleaning it with a linen cloth. Following tradition, she used a bamboo scoop to place the powdered green tea into the bowl, and then with great ceremony, she used the dipper to pour water on top of it. With the whisk, she stirred the tea until a green froth rose from the mixture. Bowing, the geisha placed the bowl in front of Takizawa.

As first guest, Takizawa turned to Kogami and bowed to him. “Forgive me for drinking before you,” he whispered. He retrieved the offered tea and drank from the bowl. After sampling the brew, he paused momentarily and placed the tea bowl down in front of him. “Cold? Cold tea? Unacceptable!”

Yumi kept her face composed and expressionless, but the hatred in her eyes was menacing. Bowing rigidly, she reached for the tea bowl, but was met with the sharp bite of Takizawa’s fan. The young geisha winced in pain and retracted her hand in terror. Recoiling in fear as he leaned in for another blow, she sobbed quietly under her breath and retreated from the tea room.

“No disrespect, Inspector Takizawa,” Akane said. “But aren’t you being a little harsh?” 

“Wisdom is the proper use of experience, Inspector Tsunemori. When it comes to artistry, such as the geisha, there is no room for practice during a performance. This is girl no geisha. She is barely a maiko.”

There was a scurrying of footsteps from behind the shoji screen, which was moved slightly to the side to reveal the door behind it. An elderly man emerged from the corridor beyond it. Dressed in an olive-green kimono, a distinguished gentleman took a kneeling position on the tatami mats and bowed formally to the Inspector and his guests. 

“In this thatched hut there ought not to be a speck of dust of any kind; both master and visitors are expected to be on terms of absolute sincerity; no ordinary measures of proportion or etiquette or conventionalism are to be followed.” 

“Inspector Takizawa, your presence honors me and your recitation of verse written by Sen no Rikyū honors my house.”

“Mr. Watanabe,” Takizawa replied. “I have brought shame on myself, your house, and your kind invitation. It was not my intention to so severely scold our host.”

“If there is shame, it is mine for allowing an ambitious girl to step into a role as yet too large for her.” Watanabe stoked the waning fire beneath the small hearth until the flames leaped hungrily at the bottom of the ceramic pot. “My wife has been ill recently, but I have no other geisha of superior quality to offer you, Inspector.”

“I do not wish to impose on her health.”

“It is a matter of honor, Inspector. An impropriety cannot be met with excuses.” Watanabe reached for a small bell on the floor and rang it.

From behind the shoji screen, with small graceful steps, the tea master’s wife appeared at the door in full kimono. The fine silk fabric was immaculately free of wrinkles, its lavender color enhanced with streaks of white and darker shades of purple. Cranes played on the white, foamy crowns of sea caps breaking onto shore. Mrs. Watanabe took a kneeling position on the tatami mats near the hearth beside her husband. She bowed deeply to the honored first guest and then to Kogami and Akane. Her movements, while graceful and deliberate, appeared labored and encumbered by effort.

Kogami felt his chest tighten and watched helplessly as sweat beaded through the elaborate white face paint on her forehead. “Inspector?” He refused to be silenced and allow a sick woman to risk her health for matters of propriety.

“Steady on, Mr. Kogami,” Takizawa whispered. “Mr. and Mrs. Watanabe, your willingness to consider your guests above your health is honor enough. Please—” As he spoke, the ailing geisha tumbled forward on the floor.

“Michiyo?” Mr. Watanabe cried. “Michiyo!”

“You said she’s been ill,” Takizawa said. “What are her symptoms?” He slowly loosened the folds of her kimono, untying the sash to permit her to breathe easier.

“On her good days, she was having dizzy spells and headaches,” the elderly teamaster replied. “Bad days, shortness of breath and fainting.” 

“Her pulse is a bit rapid. Inspector Tsunemori, please call for emergency medical services. Mr. Watanabe, prepare a room for your wife and her privacy,” Takizawa said. “Mr. Kogami, help me make Mrs. Watanabe more comfortable until their arrival.”

With Kogami’s help, Takizawa gently rolled the geisha on her back and cradled her head in his hand, so that the elaborate hairstyle would not be mussed.

“Isn’t a little late for vanity?” Kogami asked.

“Despite your disdain, Mr. Kogami, propriety is everything to the geisha,” he replied, “whether performing for guests or preparing behind the scenes. Even the comfort of sleep must not come before this ideal. I will not allow her illness to take this small dignity from her.”

The ardor in Takizawa’s voice struck Kogami with a sense of pride. If this was the quality of Inspectors from Division 10, he would be not be bothered if ever they called on him again.

“Mr. Kogami, take this.” Takizawa handed him a small handkerchief. “Dip it in that small bowl of water there. Don’t soak it. Just dampen it. Now wipe her face along and slightly below the jawline. Just enough to remove her makeup.” When the Enforcer hesitated, Takizawa glanced up at him with a reassuring smile. “No need for modesty here, Mr. Kogami. Your patience has been its own reward. This is where our investigation truly begins. Proceed.”

Kogami dipped the handkerchief in the small bowl, just enough to dampen it as instructed, and then he rubbed her face gently in a circular motion. The white face paint faded into the surrounding skin. Beneath the white powder, the geisha’s genuine complexion was unnatural. While pale, nearly as pale as the face paint she wore, there were unusual patterns, splotches of cherry red that spread across her cheek, jaw, and neckline. “This mean something to you?”

“Yes,” Takizawa said grimly. “A sign of cyanide poisoning. Only Mrs. Watanabe is still breathing. At least for the moment.”

“And we’re going to keep it that way, right?”

“On my honor, Mr. Kogami.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Akane asked. “Emergency services are on the way. ETA 8 minutes.”

“Tea, Inspector Tsunemori. Not terribly hot, but plenty of sugar. Glucose is an antidote for cyanide poisoning. We can at least attempt to arrest the effects until the proper medical help gets here.”

“Burning out the impurities, huh?” Kogami jeered. “Is this how we’re solving the case?”

“Patience, Mr. Kogami, you are over eager. We have only scratched the surface of this mystery.”

With a brilliance that masked the cityscape from view, the sun was setting into the distant horizon. As the surrounding shadows lengthened beneath the plum trees, the skies overhead were bathed with a faint glow of orange and reddish illumination. Kogami leaned against the wooden railing of a garden bridge that arced over the narrow bed of a creek and watched the sun fade. The sound of running water soothed him, despite the bustle of activity behind him in the geisha school. He listened to the medical team moving in and out of the house while they searched for evidence of cyanide contamination. 

“I don’t get it, Inspector,” Kogami said. “What did you get out of humiliating that girl? You say we’ve only scratched the surface. We’re no closer to solving this case than when we first got here.”

Takizawa stood beside him, hands folded, eyes closed, listening to the water. “We wear the mask that grins and lies. It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes. This debt we pay to human guile. With torn and bleeding hearts we smile. And mouth with myriad subtleties.” Takizawa opened his eyes and smiled at Kogami. “Why should the world be over-wise. In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while—We wear the mask. We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries. To thee from tortured souls arise. We sing, but old the clay is vile. Beneath our feet, and long the mile. But let the world dream otherwise. We wear the mask!”

“Paul Lawrence Dunbar. You suggesting I’m hiding something?”

“We are all hiding something, Mr. Kogami. We are all guilty of wearing masks. Some more obvious than others.” Takizawa took up his fan and, spreading the bamboo leaves wide, before he slapped it abruptly against his palm to close it. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Should I?”

“We were in high school together.”

“You seem a little young for that.”

“I _was_ young,” Takizawa said. “I was a first year when you were in your fourth. Having skipped the last two years of middle school because of my grades, I was much younger than everyone else in the freshman class and often a target of their teasing. That’s how we met.”

“I don’t remember you.” Kogami reached for a cigarette, but only went so far as to tuck it in the corner of his mouth to sate his craving. He had no intention of lighting it in case one of the Shinto priests was nearby watching.

“The day we met, I was hiding under the stadium bleachers near the soccer field. Some cruel boys had cornered me there like a frightened fox. I crawled as far under the bleachers as I could. They were too big to reach me, but I was unable to escape.” Takizawa leaned over the bridge railing and laughed, but it was a melancholy sound. “You were on your way to the Martial Arts club when you saw them. I was terrified that you would join in, but you didn’t. It took you only a moment to recognize their villainy, and you beat them up. All five of them. Beat them bloody. And you swore if they ever bothered me again, you’d do the same.”

“But that, that—” Kogami stiffened and took a cautionary step back. The cigarette fell from his lips, slipping between the bridge’s wooden slats and into the water. “That couldn’t have been you!”

“When last we met, Shinya, I was a young girl.” Takizawa ran his fingers along Kogami’s wrinkled shirt and tie. “You were suspended for three days. All because you wouldn’t tell the principal what had happened. In fact, your parents were in the midst of admonishing you when mine arrived at your home.”

“Your family brought dinner from your restaurant. Your mother was a geisha.”

“When my father explained what had happened, your parents never let on that you had not told them the truth.” 

Kogami’s heart raced with the revelation and the memory of that night. “The next day your father went to the principal and had my suspension rescinded.”

Leaning against the railing, Takizawa stared into Kogami’s eyes. “I had the biggest crush on you after that. You have no idea how hard I fell for you. I used to put love poems in your locker.”

“That was you?”

“That was me. And thanks to your advocacy, no one ever bothered me in school again.” Takizawa sighed and struggled to keep his smile. “After you graduated, I felt a bit lost at first, but then I realized that I had always been a little lost. So I decided to embrace who I was, who I really was. I spent my last year of high school as a boy, preparing for the transition surgery.”

“Your parents?”

“They were supportive, but hopeful that I would somehow change my mind. While my mother respected the _taikomochi_ , the male geisha, she had raised a girl. She hid her disappointment well, but I always knew.” The Inspector slapped the fan quietly against the palm of his hand. “The next year I applied for the Ministry of Welfare and was awarded a position as an Inspector. That’s where I heard about you, my guardian angel, Shinya Kogami.”

“Then you must have heard about my fall from grace?”

“During my time with Division 10, I’ve learned so much from individuals whose intelligence dwarfs my own thinking. It’s astounding really. What I heard about you is the story I’ve heard all my life as told in great literature. Only the finest of heroes ever takes that fall. From Arthur to Achilles to Lucifer—for love or for wrath—in the end that fall from grace is the answer to a question that the rest of us are too frightened to ask. So we cower under the bleachers, waiting for such an angel to take pity on us and then rescue us. Sometimes from ourselves.”

“Inspector Takizawa?” Akane said. Joining them on the bridge, she carried a tray of tea in her arms.

In the absence of a cigarette, Kogami graciously accepted the tea. In the growing cold, he warmed his hands and savored the aroma of the steaming brew. “Heavy on the sugar?” 

“Just how you like it.” Akane winked at him. “Though Mrs. Watanabe’s might be a little sweeter.” She offered a mug to Takizawa. 

“I must say, Inspector Tsunemori, if the MWPSB doesn’t work out for you, there is a place for you among the geisha. And for comparable pay, I might add, if not more.”

“Thank you, Inspector, but I think my psycho pass couldn’t bare the stress of persistent perfection.”

“That’s not likely,” Kogami said. He dodged an elbow as she retaliated for the rude comment.

“How fare’s Mrs. Watanabe?” Takizawa asked.

“She’s already showing signs of recovery thanks to your suggestions. The medical team is prepping to take her to a proper medical facility as soon as an urgent care vehicle arrives. They’ve confirmed your suspicion of cyanide poisoning.” Akane tucked the tray under her arm. “The only question is how. Nothing in the house comes up positive for even the slightest traces of the poison. It’s slow work without the drones or forensic bots to assist in the investigation.”

“And the other girls?”

“They also tested positive and will require treatment. Despite all of this, they’re so very upbeat and kind—one big, happy family. Mrs. Watanabe is like a mother to all of them. Yumi even brewed some of her special apricot tea to share for Mrs. Watanabe and the rest of us.”

“Yumi?”

“You were right about her not being a geisha. She’s almost ready, but not quite. In wake of three deaths, there’s been a lot of responsibility to take on as the senior maiko.”

“Apricot tea? Prepared by Yumi?” Takizawa turned to Kogami as he was about to sip from the cup. “I wouldn’t drink that, if I were you. Inspector Tsunemori, your tray.” 

“Inspector Takizawa?” Akane whispered. “Do you suspect something is wrong with the tea?”

“Indulge me for a moment.” He undid the clasp of his wristcom and turned it over to loosen the rear seal. “A companion of mine in Division 10 is a brilliant robotics scientist. He’s been working on ways to make the tools of our trade more accessible to Inspectors and Enforcers in the field, especially in situations when discretion is required.” He twisted off the back of the device and revealed a tiny pillbot nestled within the complications. “Power up authorization: Division 10–Takizawa.”

At the sound of his voice, the forensic robot slowly came to life. Extending its six willowy legs, it exited the wristcom and walked onto the tray. Barely the size of a honeybee, it flashed a green light to acknowledge its functionality. “

“Scan liquids for traces of cyanide—priority search.” Within seconds, the forensic bot’s green light flashed yellow and then red. “It’s detecting trace amounts of cyanide in the tea. Not enough to kill a healthy individual, but certainly enough to make them quite ill.” Takizawa read the data stream flashing across the holoscreen of his wristcom. 

“Cyanide?” Kogami said. “From apricots?”

“When ground up, apricot seeds can induce cyanide poisoning, which can reach toxic levels, especially if intentionally given over a period of time. The medical team could search every inch of this house, but if they didn’t know what they were looking for, the evidence would go unseen. Right under their noses.”

“Yumi is serving that tea to Mrs. Watanabe right now!” Akane said. She left the tray sitting on the rail and was already in motion, running back toward the main house.

“Akane, wait!” Kogami shouted. “Yumi can’t be acting alone!” 

As he gave the warning, a shadow emerged from behind a shoji screen near the main house entrance. With a guttural roar, the man viciously lunged for Akane’s throat. Pushing her back, Kogami threw himself between the Inspector and the assailant. 

“He’s armed!” Akane shouted. 

“Mr. Akagi, restrain yourself!” Takizawa ordered. He recoiled in pain when the young man slashed at him with a knife. Gasping in pain, he flinched as the sharp blade sliced his palm. Fingers trembling, Takizawa tightly clenched the hand closed to staunch the flow of blood running between his fingers.

_Always getting too close to the front line_ , Kogami thought, teeth gritted in anger. Without Dominators, the best weapon an Inspector had was an Enforcer. Mindful that he should not break the peace bond, Kogami wielded the sheathed wakizashi in one hand and brought it down across the back of Akagi’s hand. The impact of the hardened wood across bare flesh made the assailant’s fingers go numb. He dropped the knife, but he wasn’t done fighting.

Kogami grasped the sword in both hands and brought the hilt down hard against his head. He quickly needed to end the fight and put Akagi down without further injury to Takizawa. Ramming his elbow into Akagi’s throat, he heard the satisfying grunt of pain and a gasp for air. The tea master’s son dropped to his knees where Kogami delivered a secondary blow to the back of his head. 

Akane darted passed Kogami and ran through the doorway into the house. “I have to stop her!”

“Akane!” Kogami shouted after her. He grabbed Akagi by the collar of his kimono and wrestled the semi-conscious man to the grass. Rolling him onto his stomach, Kogami cuffed his hands behind his back.

“Go after her,” Takizawa said breathlessly. He wrapped a handkerchief around his bloody hand. “Quickly, Mr. Kogami, a geisha may be beautiful, but beauty is often quite beguiling and dangerous. Go!”

“Kogami!”

Akane’s desperate voice rang out from the top floor of the tea house. The high-pitch notes of his name carried the notes of desperation and fear. Kogami sprinted through the entrance. Racing up the first and second flights, he took the stairs two at a time. On the third floor, debris littered an adjoining hallway, and Kogami stumbled on the cracked remnants of a vase. There were signs of a struggle that had started in the corridor and led into a back room. 

“Get back!” Yumi rushed out of the rearmost room and into the hallway. Reaching up to her hair, she snatched one of the kanzashi free and threw it at him.

Kogami ducked, falling back against a table as the spinning knife embedded itself in the wall behind him. The projectile missed his head by mere inches. 

“Yumi, don’t do this!” Akane pleaded. Arms extended from her sides, she put herself between the crazed geisha and the other women in the room. Behind them, the ailing Mrs. Watanabe weakly cringed in her bed. 

“You’ve ruined everything!” Yumi drew two more hairpins from her elaborate hairstyle and wielded the ornate knives in each hand. Marred with tears, her white face paint had gone gray from crying. Ugly lines of smeared red eye shadow and mascara ran down the length of her face. She lunged at Kogami and then promptly retreated back toward the doorway, where she glared at the group of women behind her. In terror, they cowered away from her into a corner. 

Kogami sighed despondently and shook his head. He was loathed to the idea of striking a woman, even an armed one. The Dominator, with its sterile judgments, made it easy to see just a perpetrator and not a gender. But there was no oracle, no directional voice to guide him here, so he chose a different approach.

“What was there to ruin?” Kogami asked. “You’re a lousy geisha with no skill or substance, even I can see that.” He brought the sword up and nonchalantly rested it on his shoulder and shrugged indifferently.

Yumi’s eyes widened in shock. “Wh-what did you say?”

“I said you’re a lousy geisha. Might as well tie that obi in front and put yourself to work on the street,” he added. “You’d be put to better use out there than in here. At least the customers will be too busy to notice if you’re lousy at that, too.”

“You bastard!” Yumi screamed. With both knives raised in the air like the talons of a predatory bird, she charged him.

Kogami stood his ground as she bore down on him with the intent to kill, and then at the last moment, he stepped aside and watched her race passed him. Yumi was so intent on stabbing him that she could not stop herself. Grace and poise failed her in that moment, and she fell headfirst down the staircase.

“Kogami!” Akane yelled, running to his side. “Are you hurt!”

“No. Can’t say the same for her.” He peered down the steps to where Yumi’s body came to rest at the bottom of the stairs. 

One of the knives had pierced the center of her chest, while the other was still clasped in her clawed hand. Staring blankly, the fallen geisha looked up at them. Her neck was bent at an unnatural angle, broken in the fall. Undone in the mayhem, her loosened hair did little to bring any sense of peace or beauty to her face. The smeared, running make up and her mouth, now drawn and opened in an agonized scowl, made her look like a sea hag stranded on land, rather than the graceful geisha she had hoped to be.

“Is she?”

Kogami carefully made his way down the staircase. Before checking for a pulse, he removed the knife from Yumi’s hand. He shook his head and looked up at Akane and other girls who came to the railing to view the corpse. “She’s dead.” Solemnly, Kogami took a folded table cloth from a nearby bundle of laundry and unfolded it over the body. “Is this the only way into the house?”

“Yes,” one of the geisha replied. 

“Inspector Tsunemori, get the ladies back into the room with Mrs. Watananbe. Keep them calm.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right here.” Kogami held up the wakizashi in his hand. “Where a good hound should be, guarding the door.”

****

With the full measure of the MWPSB waiting on the outskirts of the shrine property, the medical team, now escorted by Enforcers, were prepared to transport the remaining women from the geisha school to a nearby facility for physical and mental health care. To respect the sacred pact of the Shintō shrine, no drones were permitted on the grounds, necessitating a need for extra personnel to investigate the crime scene and decipher the deadly riddle of the events that had unfolded at the school over the last month.

Kogami left the furor of the investigation to join Takizawa in the courtyard. A few of the warrior priests were present in the immediate vicinity, some guarding the shrine entrance, while others stood in the shadowed doorways of the buildings. Their presence was meant to protect the sanctity of their hallowed home.

“This is your investigation,” Kogami said. “And you’re missing it.” He set a medical kit down on the edge of the basin beside Takizawa. 

“Inspector Tsunemori is more than capable of handling it. She has an extraordinary eye for detail that will only hone itself with time and experience.”

“That she does.” Kogami tapped the medical kit. “When you refused to be seen by a tech, she sent me to have a look at that hand.” He removed the bloody handkerchief from Takizawa’s hand and inspected the wound under a flashlight. Wincing at the severity of the gash, Kogami frowned at the Division 10 Inspector. “This is pretty deep. Not sure why you refused to be treated,” he said. “This could probably use some stitches.”

“Scars are the mantra of a life well lived, Mr. Kogami, wouldn’t you agree? I have so many scars,” he whispered sadly, “as I imagine that you do, too.” Takizawa snorted softly and then laughed. “Isn’t it odd how life reminds us of who we are by reminding of us of who we were?”

Kogami stared in confusion. “Come again?”

“Remember that day when I was hiding under the bleachers? It took you almost 20 minutes to coax me out from the shadows. You were so kind as you took my hand. Just as you’ve taken it now.” Takizawa brushed a strand of hair from Kogami’s face. “You sat me down and dried my tears and washed my scrapes with water from a nearby fountain. It’s no wonder I never got over my crush.”

Kogami dismissed the awkward discomfort tightening in his chest. He applied antiseptic to clean the wound and then suture tape to close the wound as best as he could. “I wouldn’t be doing any fan dances, at least not until you check in with medical back at MWPSB.”

“Is that an order, Enforcer?”

“Yep. I plan on putting it in my report and scoring points with Ginoza.”

“Well played, Mr. Kogami. I shall check in first thing in the morning. Will that suffice? I’m currently overdue for another appointment this evening. ” 

“I’ll be checking the logs.”

“It’s that very tenacity that made you such an expert in the martial arts. You always were an impressive fighter.”

“Better for me to get my hands bloody than you, Inspector. I prefer it that way, and so does Sibyl.” Kogami wrapped the wound in gauze to create a makeshift bandage for Takizawa’s hand. “Can’t say I agree with how you handled this case, but you got the job done.”

“Fortune does favor the bold, Mr. Kogami, but not always. Some matters require discretion.” He winced in pain as Kogami tightened the end of the gauze to secure it. 

“Sorry.”

“A trivial matter. You may play the role of the fallen king turned mercenary, but you remain a king at heart.”

Kogami laughed and shook his head incredulously. “If you really knew me, Inspector—.”

“You forget, Shinya. I _do_ know you...and I know that not every reputation that precedes a man speaks to the truth of his character, and I have every intention of writing that novel in _my_ report.”

“Mr. Kogami? Inspector Takizawa?” Akane joined them in the courtyard. Winded from the hurried walk from the geisha house, she took a moment to lean against the water basin and catch her breath. “This is honestly the most unconventional case I’ve ever worked on.” She laughed, her breathing coming easier with rest. 

“What have you uncovered, Inspector Tsunemori?”

“You left no stone unturned, Inspector Takizawa. Yumi Nukio had her sights on the position of senior geisha here at the school. But there were eight other women ahead of her, all at various stages of apprenticeship, a maiko, and two full geishas.”

“So she systematically poisoned them with her tea, killing three of them. Ambitious girl,” Kogami whispered. “Cold blooded.”

“Envy turns its green eyes on the blessings of others, causing us to forget the blessings that we have.” Takizawa rubbed his injured hand and stood up while testing movement in his fingers.

“It’s quite the tale of ambition and betrayal and love, which led to murder,” Akane said. “Mr. and Mrs. Watanabe brought Yumi into their home to foster her after her parents were killed in a plane accident. They treated her like their own daughter, but that’s how they treat all the girls here. Yumi wanted more. She wanted to be the lead geisha.”

“So she started eliminating the competition,” Takizawa said, “with Kenichi Akagi’s help. He confessed that it was his idea to use the tea as a poison.”

“That’s right.” Akane nodded. “When the girls fell ill, a few went home and never returned. Yumi rose up in the ranks. But when the remaining girls stayed on, she had to increase the amount of poison she was using.”

“The apricot seeds were a devious solution to her sordid scheme.” Takizawa sighed in disgust. “Akagi’s position under the teamaster, his father, made him a perfect accomplice for her. He furnished her with the poison and the tea to cover it up.”

“He was also a med student,” Akane added, “and familiar with other medicinal supplements that would hide the fact that the victims were being poisoned. When Mrs. Watanabe drank the poisoned tea, it actually made her feel better, and she wanted more, further poisoning herself.”

“But why murder his mother?” Kogami asked. He shoved his hands into his pockets in irritation. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“Step-mother,” Takizawa corrected him. “Kenichi’s mother died some years ago. In her honor, he goes by her surname and not his father’s. The current Mrs. Watanabe’s death would serve as a catalyst.” Takizawa crossed his arms over his chest. “After the death of his second wife, Mr. Watanabe would almost certainly retire. As the only child, Kenichi would be the sole heir and proprietor of the geisha house and its services.”

“And Yumi, being his accomplice, would be the senior geisha in charge.” Kogami snatched the sword from the water basin’s edge and rubbed his thumb aggressively over the hilt. “Cymatic scans might have prevented this from ever happening.”

“Perhaps, Mr. Kogami, but even the scans can miss the obvious. Kenichi’s crime coefficient is just barely over 100. He might have been pushed over the edge by our interference.” Takizawa flexed the fingers of his injured hand. “What is Mrs. Watanabe’s status?”

“Thankfully, she’ll recover, but there could be long-term neurological effects. The other women should be fine after being treated with the antidote.” 

“Will they have to close the school and tea house?” Kogami asked. 

“No,” Akane said with a grin. “There’s a new restaurant opening uptown and the owners have already offered to help keep the tea house open by lending some of their geisha to the school to help with lessons, tea ceremonies, and maintaining appearances while Mrs. Watanabe recovers.”

“New restaurant, huh?” Kogami said. “Sounds like you and your friends have a new weekend hang out.”

“The Palace of the Rising Sun? There’s a four-month waiting list to get reservations.” Akane closed the first aid kit and held it in both hands. “I’ll take this back to the medical team. I promised Mr. Watanabe that I would check in before they took him and his wife to the hospital.” 

Kogami watched her go. Since that morning, she had mastered the small, mindful steps of the geisha, while still managing to quicken her pace. While he preferred her business suit over the kimono, the transformation into a graceful beauty had left him stunned and speechless. Hands in his pockets, Kogami pressed the sword against his hip and walked over to the shrine gate. Staring down the long stone staircase, he watched the final rays of the sun finally set below the horizon.

“Why so pensive, Mr. Kogami? The case is solved. Two criminals brought to heel—one to the morgue, another to an isolation cell for life. Three souls laid to rest in the name of Justice. Accolades for all.”

“It’s been such an unusual day,” Kogami replied. He laughed, despite himself, and ran a hand through his hair. “Every other case, from here on out, is going to seem so normal after this one.”

“Division 10 could always use a resourceful Enforcer.” Takizawa took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He dared to reach out and caress Kogami’s cheek. “Every day could be an adventure into the unusual.”

“No, thanks.” Kogami met his gaze without flinching. “Nothing wrong with normal, is there?”

“Certainly not.” Withdrawing his hand, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched as the shadows about them lengthened with the coming night. “I do believe Futsunushi was here within this shrine today. Your gift from the shrine guardian is evidence of that.”

Kogami looked at the peace-bound wakizashi under his arm. “I tried to give it back, but he refused.”

“One does not return gifts, Mr. Kogami, not without appearing ungrateful and rude.” 

“Wasn’t my intention to offend him.” Kogami grew uncomfortable with the notion that his actions might be perceived as impolite. “I thought maybe he gave it to me until we solved the case.”

“If there was any offense, it would be excused for ignorance and forgiven by what was accomplished. The elder would not have taken it back in any case because the sword is now a vessel for your soul?”

“How’s that?”

“The warrior monks believe their souls exist within their swords. Take a man’s sword and you steal his soul. Break the sword, and you break his soul.” He fixed his eyes on Kogami. “Keep it safe, Mr. Kogami. That sword is your ticket to sanctuary, if ever the Sibyl System deems you unfit to live. Remember, Shinto shrines are sacred and beyond the jurisdiction of the MWPSB. No cymatic scanners, no drones, no Sibyl. No psycho pass. No crime coefficients.”

Kogami shrugged, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “It’s no paradise.”

“Tell that to a fallen angel.”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it, Inspector Takizawa. I’m nobody.”

“There’s a saying from an Italian filmmaker that I’ve come to love,” Takizawa said. “Each of us is an angel with only one wing, and that in order to fly, we must embrace each other.” 

“What are doing?” Kogami asked.

“Something I should have done a long time ago.” Takizawa put his arms about Kogami’s neck and pulled him close for a tender embrace. He laid his head against the Enforcer’s shoulder. 

Braced in this awkward position, Kogami stiffened. But looking into Takizawa’s eyes, he recognized the little girl there, alone beneath the bleachers, in desperate need of someone, anyone, to notice her and care. He relented, bowing his head in submission. His guard was still up, but subdued.

Pulling away with a pleasant smile, Takizawa allowed his hand to linger on Kogami’s chest. “Thank you for not rebuking or judging me.”

Uncertain how to respond, Kogami remained quiet.

“That brooding silence? It’s what makes you so terribly attractive.” Takizawa moved a few paces away to relieve the Enforcer’s discomfort and tension.

Clearing her throat, Akane walked toward them. “Mr. Watanabe wanted to extend his thank you, Inspector Takizawa, and to the MWPSB for their discretion in this investigation,” she said. “The medical team left about five minutes ago. The forensics team should be wrapping up in a few hours.” She clasped her hands in front of her and rocked back and forth on her toes with an anxious grin. “Case closed, gentlemen.”

“Akishiro!” The serenity of the night was shattered by a loud voice that wailed from the direction of the geisha school. “Inspector Akishiro Takizawa, we are going to be late for the opening of our own restaurant!” 

Dressed in an elegant, but elaborately layered white kimono that was adorned with cherry blossoms sewn onto the silk fabric, a slender young woman came running into the shrine courtyard. Her hair was swept back in the traditional maiden leaf hairstyle with kanzashi ornaments dangling and swinging back and forth above her forehead. Her face was painted in the traditional white of the geisha with cherry red accents for her lips and eyes.

“Makiko,” Takizawa said, taking her hand. “Your manners!”

“No time for manners,” she panted.

“Then at least introductions. This is Inspector Akane Tsunemori of Division 1, and this is Enforcer Shinya Kogami.”

In mid-bow to Akane, Makiko hesitated. “Shinya Kogami? The old classmate you’re always talking about?” She quickly stepped out of her _okobo_ , pushing the traditional wooden sandals behind her, and fell to her knees in a position of _dogeza_ , the highest form of honor. Placing her head on the ground at Kogami’s feet, she bowed to him.

Kogami gasped. The quick flush of embarrassment rose up his neck and across his cheeks. “You don’t have to do that!”

“I must,” she said, bowing once more. “You are the one responsible for my husband becoming the man that he is. Without your influence, Akishiro might not have come to his current station in the world.” With Takizawa’s help, she got back on her feet and agilely stepped back into the _okobo_.

“Husband?” Kogami asked, perplexed.

“Enforcer Kogami, this is my sweet, but impulsive wife, Makiko Takizawa. For whom I have no idea why she is here, or why she is in such a fluster. It’s unbecoming of a geisha.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” she asked, ignoring his admonishment. “I’m here because you are nearly an hour overdue.” Makiko turned to her husband’s colleagues to forge alliances. “We’re opening a new restaurant in the area. Palace of the Rising Sun. Have you heard of it? It’s geisha-themed.” 

“The new restaurant is yours?” Akane asked. “That explains how the geisha school got help so quickly. Inspector Takizawa, you’re a marvel!” 

“Just following in my parents’ footsteps. Mr. Kogami and you must come by and let us serve you as honored guests. No reservations necessary—ever.” “Why not tonight?”

“Makiko, you are being too forward.”

“Akishiro, we are undone. The Minister of Finance has canceled his dinner at the restaurant opening tonight. We are without an honored guest. Mr. Kogami and Miss Tsunemori would be perfect! Now I can make the final preparations.” Without warning, she rushed up to Kogami and kissed his cheek. “The kiss of a geisha brings blessings from the gods.” 

In a self-absorbed bluster that reminded Kogami of Akane, the geisha bowed to him and then to Akane. “Akishiro, please hurry. We must be going, darling.” She took her husband by the hand and hurried him back toward the geisha school, all the while talking to herself.

“Please forgive her.” Chided by her boldness, Takizawa looked helplessly at Akane and Kogami and reluctantly allowed himself to be led away. 

“Reminds me of someone I once knew,” Kogami said, shoving his hands in his pocket. “And someone I know now.” He glanced at Akane and then leaned out of reach as she feigned an incoming slap to the face.

“There is an access road on the other side of the compound if you want to avoid taking the stairs,” Takizawa said. 

“Now you tell me,” Kogami complained. “We couldn’t have used that entrance rather than climbing 1000 stairs?”

“The access road is for deliveries, Mr. Kogami.” Takizawa was shouting now, as his wife continued to pull him away toward a waiting car. “Besides, some things are meant to be experienced by taking the longer path. But you are always welcomed to ride with us.”

Kogami glanced over his shoulder at the stone stairway. The moon was out and cast a pale illumination over the steep descent. “We’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

“Very well, I’ll send the directions to your wristcom.” Gently tapping his wife on the backside with his bamboo fan, Takizawa chastised her behavior in low tones. His words seemed to have little effect, neither dulling her excitement nor slowing her swift pace. While he spoke of decorum and tradition, she retorted with details of the impending opening. If she had the same meticulous attention to detail as her husband, Kogami was certain that nothing would be out of place or left to chance.

“Palace of the Rising Sun?” Akane clapped her hands together in anticipation and spun in a circle. “Wait until I tell Yuki and Minase. Kogami, it’s a 12-course dinner!”

“Good. I’m starving.”

“Kogami, it would cost a fortune to dine there, and we’re invited guests!”

“Not exactly dressed for it,” Kogami said, restraining his own excitement. “At least I’m not. You’ll fit in.”

Akane playfully pulled him closer to her by the lapel of his coat. Straightening his tie, she tightened the knot and pushed it closer to his neck. “I think you look just fine.” Then staring up at him, tilting her head to the side, she said, “You know, we can always send someone for the car and ride along with Inspector Takizawa and his wife. We don’t have to go back down the steps, unless you _want_ to carry me.”

Kogami smiled and slightly bowed his head to her. Tucking the wakizashi and its scabbard in his belt, he carefully scooped her up in his arms.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked. “I wouldn’t want you to strain your wing.”

Kogami met her teasing eyes. “How much did you hear?”

“All of it. Back in the garden and here in the courtyard. You are someone very important to Inspector Takizawa.” She pulled the fan from the folds of her kimono and tapped her nose.

Remembering the signal for jealousy, Kogami laughed and adjusted his grip beneath her.

Akane rolled up the kimono sleeve and held the fabric over her hand. Dampening it slightly with her tongue, she wiped vigorously at his cheek. The silk was lightly stained with the removal of Makiko’s lipstick. She then tucked the fan back into the folds of her kimono, wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

“What are you doing?”

“Marking my territory. I don’t want another geisha, male or female, to get the wrong ideas.”

Cradling her firmly against his chest, Kogami secured his grip and carefully made his way down the shrine stairs. “Inspector Tsunemori, whatever am I going to do with you?”

“Well, first, just get me down from this mountain without breaking both our necks. After that, I’m open to discussion.”


End file.
